


A Modern Rock Song

by Stella_Delilah



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, POV Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shop owner Bucky Barnes, Skinny Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Steve Rogers is a twink, Student Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_Delilah/pseuds/Stella_Delilah
Summary: Bucky loves Suffolk, and he loves his little town of Framlingham and he's perfectly fine with the state of his love life as it is now. Or, the one where Steve has a floppy sunhat and Bucky falls for him fast. A Captain America AU where Steve is little and Bucky is a vet and bookstores are just as cozy as coffeeshops.Repost :) Rating will increase in second chapter
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	A Modern Rock Song

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy little story that I revamped for 2020. Currently working on a longer fic for another fandom and I've been trying to work on sentence structure and dialogue. Unbeta'd.

Bucky taps his pen against the keyboard for a moment before writing down a couple of titles on his notepad. A few shorter strands of hair slip from his bun and fall into his vision. Halfheartedly tucking the loose strands into the bun again, he nods to the girl and stands. 

“So it’s historical fiction? And it’s about an illness?” 

The girl, whose name escapes him, nods. She’s holding her satchel tightly with both hands, her mouth twisted to one side, her brow furrowed. Bucky leans away from the counter. She’s a tiny thing, with an accent he can’t place. Scottish or Irish, and certainly not posh. Even after nearly eight years in Suffolk Bucky sucks at deciphering accents. Everyone else seems to guess his right away.

“Yeah, it’s about American history and it’s about a bunch of people getting sick.” She furrows her brow, sending small wrinkle lines into her forehead. “I think they have a fever. And I think they still have colonies.”

Bucky nods. “Uh-huh. Sounds like that novel about yellow fever.” He leads her away from the register area and over into historical fiction, nearly tripping over a stack of comic books that Darcy must have forgotten to shelve. Anderson is near the top. Bucky barely reaches it without the ladder.

After glancing at it one last time to be sure, Bucky hands the novel to the customer. “Here you go. Fever, 1793.” 

The girl’s eyes light up and her red hair seems to buzz with static energy. She smiles up at him, her entire face crinkling up. “Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes!” Bucky watches her flounce back to the front of the building to Nat at the register and faintly remembers he needs to facetime his baby sister.

The thing about working in a bookstore is that everyone is nice. The customers are always nice, they smile and greet you when they enter. The workers are nice, they’re just as excited about books as the customers, and twice as eager to please. He’s only had one bad interaction, and that was when they didn’t have the newest book in the Hunger Games trilogy. That girl’s poor mother. For the most part, though, everyone is sweet. 

And Bucky likes it. He likes seeing little kids in the corner poring over books as though their lives depend on it, and teens giggling over their selection of classics. It’s nice. And everyone is minding their own business, but they wouldn’t mind taking some time to help you with yours. He thinks that’s nice too. 

The door chimes and Bucky flips back to the previous page of his notepad. His original to-do list glares up at him. 

“That’s it,” he announces, to nobody in particular. Darcy’s head perks up from a bookshelf.

“What’d you find?” Bucky almost winces from her volume.

“Nothing. I’m just realizin' that I need coffee before I keep on with this stuff.” The fingers on his metal hand clack together as he stretches and waggles them. His other hand twitches. “I’m going next door. And I almost tripped over some comics back there, can you grab those?” 

Darcy grins and nods. “Sorry about that. I got it, boss.” She gives him a fake salute (which isn’t cringe-worthy whatsoever) and disappears back behind the stacks. Bucky tucks his notepad into his back pants pocket before striding off.

There’s a short set of stairs leading to a doorway that connects the bookstore to the building next door, and the people over there have a coffee shop that takes up the first floor. It’s quaint, and Bucky likes that he’ll see some kids come in, run up the stairs to get a coffee, and then head right back down the stairs again to get their book and curl up in an armchair. It’s cozy, and something about having both stores connected feels right.

Bucky approaches the counter and tells the barista his usual order, a small black coffee with two shots of espresso (because who can ever get enough espresso?) and casually glances around the shop. He’s mindlessly rapping his knuckles against the countertop, waiting for his name to be called, when he sees the blonde man seated near the front of the shop. There’s a big floppy sun hat in the seat beside him. The kid must have found the only patch of sun in Framlingham that day if he’d felt the need to wear it, and he’d also seemed to find the only square of sun streaming in through the window of the shop. 

Floppy hat’s leaned over his table, his knees tucked up under him. Blank papers and one book are spread out before him. Bucky sniffs and runs his human hand through his hair. There’s not a lot of customers in the shop, just the slim man with the big sunhat and a couple of elderly ladies at one of the middle tables. Without alerting the man, Bucky leans forward to try and get a glimpse of his face. The man’s dark blond hair has fallen forward, hiding most of it, but Bucky can just barely see that he’s pouting at his book.

“Buckyyyy!”  Calls the barista from the other end of the counter. Everyone in the shop looks up, including the beautiful man with the yellow hair. Bucky knows in his heart (because he’s not an idiot) that they’re only looking because that’s human nature to look when you hear a loud noise, it’s normal and it’s not a big deal, it's not, but Bucky’s eyes meet the blond man’s and good  God his eyes are so blue.

Since he’s not embarrassed and there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Bucky calmly takes his drink from the barista and hurries back to his shop. Nothing matters, not even the fact that he trips over his own feet as he reaches the stairs, only to glance back and see the same beautiful man staring at him, his eyelashes dark and long and curly and his pouty little mouth twitching with a smile. Bucky breathes out of his nose and resolutely does not let the heat rise to his cheeks. He can’t do much about his ears, though.

\-------

“Bucky. What in god’s name are you doing?” Peggy asks from above him, and for a minute he’s not sure what to respond because three little girls are sitting by the bookshelf and watching him with unveiled curiosity. And damn it all if Bucky’s about to pour his heart out in front of 10-year olds.

He shakes his head at her instead, looking up at her as she climbs down from her ladder. He’s glad that they’re near the back of the store where Natasha has skillfully arranged the romantic and erotica, surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, rather than the front where it’s open. It feels like the safest place to be at the moment. There are three books in need of some taping on the floor in front of him and he’s taking his time with repairs. Bucky’s not nervous, or uncomfortable, and it’s not because the beautiful man from next door has wandered into the shop and is now walking through the aisles as though he’s got all the time in the world.

“Oi, you two. It says teens and up for a reason. Shouldn’t be in a bookstore if you can’t read.” Peggy snaps at the children, with the slightest smirk. “Go up front where your parents can see what you’re reading.” The girls titter as they hurry back to the front, leaving their age-inappropriate books behind. Some are surprised by how well kids respond to Peggy. Bucky thinks that it's better to go along with her, in general. Just to be safe.

With the little ones gone, Peggy turned her attention back to Bucky. “Alright, secret agent, would you like to explain what’s going on now?” She places her hands on her hips like she’s interrogating him. Bucky wouldn’t put it past her.

“The guy who just walked in.” Bucky sighs. Peggy glances up at the mirror in the back that reflects the whole store. (People don’t usually steal from bookstores, it’s hard to fit an entire book into your backpack without someone noticing that you didn’t buy it. Plus it’s not like they don’t make enough in a month to miss a book or two that went to someone who couldn’t afford it.)

“Blonde, little, with the huge sun hat?”

Bucky nods.

“Yes, I can see him. What about him? You know him?” She asks. Bucky shakes his head.

“No, but did you see him?” Peggy blinks and Bucky sighs. “He looks like he was birthed by angels, Peggy.” Peggy looks up into the mirror again, really looks, and shrugs before she nods in agreement.

“Yes, but I’m still a bit lost on why that means you have to duck and roll to the back of the store to avoid him? ‘s just a boy.” Bucky doesn’t answer. Peggy is smart, with a killer sense of humor, but she’s never been interested in any of the folks who come into the bookstore. Peggy hasn’t been interested in anyone at all, at least not to Bucky's knowledge. Bucky blinks and then opens his mouth to explain why _yes,_ in fact, he does have to hide from the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen when a deep voice interrupts them.

“Excuse me! Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but---oh! Did I interrupt?” 

Peggy’s eyes widen as she looks over at the intruder and her shoulders tense up immediately.

It’s the gorgeous blonde from the front. He’s staring at them, well at Bucky. Bucky feels the color rising to his face as he realizes that he’s still sitting on the floor, and starts to reach for the book tape, as though he were doing something besides sitting on the ground staring up at Peggy. Peggy, who happens to be standing quite close to him and wearing a flared skirt.

_ Way to make a first impression, _ he thinks to himself as he forces himself to meet the man’s eyes, book in one hand.

Peggy speaks first. “How can we help you?” She smiles.

His forehead is hidden behind bangs and his sun hat, and he clutching his backpack with one arm. He’s got the book close to himself as though to cover his slight body. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” He says, his cheeks flushing pink. Bucky has to bite down on his tongue at the sound of that voice. It’s deeper than one would think, given by how small the man is, but it’s deep and smooth as honey.

The model opens his mouth to speak again. “Um, where can I find thrillers?” He says softly, and Bucky is staring at his lips, fully aware that floppy sun hat boy is still looking back and forth between him and Peggy. The man’s eyes flick to Bucky’s metal arm and just as quickly then back up to his face.

“Yeah, Barnes here can show you where those'd be. Right?” Bucky jerks his head toward her accusingly, but she’s just smiling sweetly at the customer and ignoring him.

“Of course I can.” He grins toothily at the beauty, who gives a little smile of his own. Sweet Jesus. His eyes are a beautiful deeply electric blue, and his lips are full, almost too full for his small face. He has cheekbones that seem like they might be sculpted out of marble, but somehow his beautiful face fits his small frame. Bucky feels as though his throat is cotton while he’s staring at him, so he turns away and heads toward the stairs. He tries to swallow that motion feels thick. Steve follows behind him like a puppy dog, his white sneakers making soft creaks against the wood floor.

“So... Barnes?” Bucky almost chokes on his spit at the sound of Steve’s voice again. He blanches, throwing a look over his shoulder. Steve ducks slightly. His eyes raise to meet Bucky’s automatically and he blinks through his lashes. "Um, sorry. I assumed it was, that it was Bucky. Since the barista said it. I just,” Steve’s cheeks turn red. “Sorry.”

“No, uh, you're good. I mean, I’m Bucky. My last name is Barnes. Well, my first name is James.” The other man’s brow furrows and his lip juts out a bit in a confused little pout, which scrambles Bucky’s mind even more, which is probably why he keeps talking. “I mean, my middle name is Buchanan, my mom’s maiden name.” He chuckles lightly. The small man just nods and keeps following him up the stairs. For whatever damn reason, Bucky suddenly hates silence, so he keeps talking.

“So Bucky comes from Buchanan. That’s why I go by Bucky because Jamie doesn’t fit, you know? And I hate being called James, so yeah. Bucky.” He stops talking and practically sprints over to where the thrillers and mysteries are, with Steve on his heels. “Anyway.” Steve glances toward the shelf of books and back up to Bucky. The pink spots on his knuckles make his fingers look as though they're blushing as he tilts back the brim of his hat.

_ Wow, could you have made a huger fool of yourself, Barnes?  _ Natasha’s voice rings in his head.

"I don't hate the name 'James'. I just hate being called James because it reminds me of being in trouble." Bucky can’t stop fucking  _ talking.  _ The way that Steve smiles at him with his forehead wrinkled delicately tells him that he didn't need to clarify that information.

Bucky points at the three rows of shelves on the left side of the second floor. “Here you go,” he says awkwardly. The smaller man is still looking at him, smiling softly. He walks forward to look closer at the shelves and then looks back at Bucky.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

“No problem, um, what’s- what’s your name?”

The blue-eyed little angel looks down quickly and his eyelashes cast shadows across his pink cheeks, making them look even longer. His fingers are drumming on his bag strap, as though he’s contemplating something. Good lord. The angels took their time on this one.

“Steve.” The man decides, simply, as though he’s making up for Bucky’s rambles about names earlier. Bucky nods and swallows, and Steve is smiling at him with crinkled eyes, his lashes seeming so long and dark, his lips crooked in a small smirk and Jesus, Bucky needs to go to work.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky nods again, for no fucking reason, and thunders down the stairs.

“It was the most embarrassing encounter of my entire fucking life, Nat.” Bucky sighs against the table as they eat dinner in their loft. Nat lifts another slice of garlic bread off the table for herself, pushing the plate toward Bucky in an offering. Miserably, he takes one and rips it in half.

The third floor of the bookstore and above the coffee shop is an apartment loft, with three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms. One is just a toilet and a sink, with a showerhead against the wall and a drain in the floor. Bucky only uses it as a shower if Nat is taking an extraordinarily long time in the full bathroom, but it’s clean. They use the third bedroom both for storage and as a guest room, though Natasha has more guests than Bucky. It’s quaint and quiet, the perfect size for the two of them.

“I don’t think you made yourself look as bad as you think you did,” Natasha says, twirling her fork around her spaghetti as she talks. She looks at him pointedly and slides a small folded piece of paper across the table.

“What’s this?” Bucky asks, grabbing at it. Natasha just raises her eyebrows and picks up her plate to head toward the couch. “Hey, Nat!” Bucky says again, but she doesn’t even look at him, grabbing at the bottle opener and her bottle of Sprite and turning on the television instead. When the sound of the news comes on, Bucky unfolds the piece of paper and decides it can’t hurt to read whatever it is. His heart stops.

The note only says a number and a name. Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s lungs stop for a moment and he thinks he could choke on the air that’s not coming in. He has to swallow twice before he can speak.

“Nat,” he calls. His voice is shakier than necessary. “When did he leave this?” When there’s no answer Bucky gulps down his glass of water and says again, his voice sounding less hoarse this time, “Nat?” 

The television volume increases. Nat isn’t answering, which means that she must approve of the kids, or she already vetted him. Somehow. Bucky doesn’t need to ask.

He’s in his room with his plate and his soda only seconds later. Once he’s picked up the phone, he hesitates. Should he call? Or should he just text Steve? But he wants to hear Steve’s velvety voice again. But he also doesn’t want to scare Steve off. The options go round and round in Bucky’s mind for a solid four minutes, and on the fifth minute, he types in Steve’s number and presses the call button before he can change his mind again.

“Hello?”

Shit. Steve answers on the third ring.

“U-um, hi. Is this Steve Rogers?” Bucky has never stuttered in his damn life, and now he’s done it twice in front of the most beautiful man on the planet.

“Yes it is, may I ask who’s calling?” Steve sounds like all business and slight apprehension. Bucky draws in a breath before speaking again.

“Hey, it’s Bucky. From the bookstore. From Fury’s.” He’s talking too much again, he needs to shut up—

“Oh right. James Buchanan Barnes, right? Did I remember that correctly?” Bucky can hear the laugh in Steve’s voice, so he knows that he’s speaking in jest, but his face flushes anyway. His name also sounds damn good in Steve’s mouth. Something else would be damn good in Steve’s mouth….

“Yes,” He laughs a bit, moving his fork around in his spaghetti. The wet noises distract him and he sets down his fork with a clink. This conversation needs more attention. “That’s me. How are you doing?”

“I’m pretty good. I missed my train, so I’ve only just gotten back to my apartment though.” Steve sounds like he’s stretching, and Bucky lets himself relax.

“Oh really? Where do you live that you need to take a train?” He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. It’s not normal to ask a stranger where they live, even if they gave you their number.

“I’m studying at the University Campus Suffolk, at the main campus. In Ipswich.” Steve answers, sounding like he’s laying back in bed.

“Oh, cool,” Bucky says lamely. He doesn’t know much about that college, but he knows that a couple of the students come by on the train on weekends. Framlingham is a favorite of anybody in Suffolk. That’s when he realizes something about Steve.

“You have an American accent!” He didn’t mean for it to come out so accusingly, but Steve just laughs lightly over the phone and Bucky’s heart squeezes.

“I would hope so. I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Hey! Same here!” Bucky says, stuffing a bite of spaghetti into his mouth. Steve makes a little surprised sound on the other end and sounds like he’s moving around.

“That’s pretty cool, Buck. Hey, do you mind if I put you on speaker? I’m trying to finish a painting right now too.” Bucky nods, then realizes that Steve can’t see him.

“Sure thing, Stevie. Is that what you study at Suffolk? Painting?”

Steve makes a soft huffing sound over the line and Bucky smiles to himself.

“Is that my nickname now? Stevie?” Bucky stops for a moment but then recognizes that Steve is joking.

“Yeah, I’d say so. You already called me Buck and that’s not the same thing as Bucky.” He says, spearing a meatball in half.

“I’m okay with Stevie if you’re alright with Buck.” Bucky can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and he imagines it too. It makes him smile around the food in his mouth. “And no, I’m not studying painting. I’m studying graphic illustration. I want to be an illustrator and stuff. I’ve already done a couple of books.” Steve says it nonchalantly, but Bucky’s already impressed. Steve is going places.

“Wow. So what are you doing slumming around in Framlingham?” He says, meaning for it to sound like a joke, but he sounds slightly bitter to his ears. Steve doesn’t quite seem to notice, but he does pause.

“I like the town. It’s far away from campus and nobody knows me.” Steve pauses and Bucky suspects he wants to say more but, like Bucky, recognizes that this is the first conversation and they’ve only met a few hours ago. “And someone from school told me that if I wanted cheaper priced books I should check out Fury’s. Staff wasn’t so bad either, so that’s cool.” Bucky’s heart skips a beat and he wills the blush to leave his face. He decides that maybe he should change the subject before he asks Steve to go to bed with him.

“So why did you choose Suffolk? What, your parents wanted to get you out of Brooklyn?”

Steve pauses again. “My folks are actually both gone. I don’t have any family, so there wasn’t much tying me back to the States but my hometown.”

Bucky’s heart drops. He’s an idiot. No, he’s an idiot  _ and  _ a jerk.

“Wow Stevie. I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He stops, unsure of what to say. Steve doesn’t speak right away either, so Bucky continues. “That sucks.”

Steve laughs outright at that, and Bucky sighs audibly.

“Yeah, it does. But I mean, my mom died when I was a teenager and then I lived with some neighbors before college, so I’m okay. What about you, what’s up with your family situation? Do you have family in Framlingham?” It’s an obvious attempt to change the subject and avoid conversation about himself, Bucky knows. And he feels awful.

Bucky pushes his plate away and drums his fingers against his leg with his metal hand. Fuck it, he thinks. The kids may as well know. If he doesn’t want anything to do with Bucky after this, so be it. They don’t have to see each other again. Suffolk is big enough.

“Uh, I’m a vet. Enlisted right out of high school.” He pauses, to see if Steve has any connections or responses to that but gets only silence in response. “I got in an accident while on tour and got my arm all messed up, so it had to be amputated. Left me with the cyborg-looking arm I’ve got now. My best friend Nat moved out here about seven years back, nearly eight now. She inherited this place from a friend of hers. So I got a work visa and went with. I’ve been living here ever since.”

Still silence. "I thought about changing my name but I think it sounds real European already and I couldn't think of anything better."

Steve is quiet for a few more seconds before he lets out an awkward chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad that you trusted me enough to tell me about...this.” Steve sounds cautious as he speaks the words. “And I noticed your arm in the store, I thought it was cool.”

“Thanks.” Bucky smiles and he thinks he can hear Steve smile too.

“Hey, um, what time does the store close on weekends?”

Bucky thinks for a moment. “Um, Fridays and Saturdays we close at 4.” Steve clears his throat.

“Um, would you want to go out for dinner with me? This Friday? I was only in Framlingham for a day because my classes end early on Tuesdays.”

Bucky’s face threatens to split from his smile and he curls his metal hand tighter around the phone. Although they set up a time to meet in front of a little local restaurant in Framlingham at six in the evening, they stay on the phone for another hour. By the end of it, Bucky has decided that he more than wants to sleep with Steve. He wants to date Steve.

Friday comes quickly. After a stern talking-to by Natasha and tons of teasing from Peggy, Bucky makes the short walk to the restaurant. Steve turns up wearing ankle-length cigarette pants and a loose cardigan over his t-shirt. Bucky suddenly feels like a complete bum in his long-sleeved crewneck and jeans. Steve is waiting outside of the restaurant when he gets there, leaned up against the brick and scrolling through something on his phone. The blue hue of his screen reflects on his face, making him look younger than he is, exacerbated by the glow of the streetlamps in the twilight.

For a moment Bucky considers running away from this date, from this gorgeous possible future boyfriend who can’t even possibly be a possibility because that would be... impossible. 

But then Steve seems to realize he’s been stared at, and he sees Bucky and his face splits into a grin and Bucky’s stomach untangles itself, though he never noticed when it got tied up in knots. Steve has a little black bag over his shoulder and he takes Bucky’s arm with his free hand. His human arm, of course. 

Their date goes off without a hitch. It goes swimmingly and Steve is so easy to talk to that Bucky doesn’t want the night to end. When he walks Steve back to the train station, Steve’s leftover meat pie in a box in his arms, Steve grabs Bucky’s good hand. He doesn’t let go until they stop outside of the station. Bucky chews on the inside of his lip while Steve looks around for his pass, and watches Steve’s lips wrinkling as he rummages around in his bag. Steve’s mouth is red and wet, and Bucky can't stop himself from licking his lips. His eyes stray down to Steve’s belt, and Steve’s shoes. He absently wonders what size Steve wears. Steve has big hands, kind of, too. Bucky curls his human hand around his metal bicep and presses hard.

“Got it,” Steve says suddenly. His head flips back up and he grins and meets Bucky’s eyes. He bites his lip and looks away and then back again, as though he feels just as awkward as Bucky does. “Um--”

Bucky curls a hand behind Steve’s neck and pulls the other man’s lips against his. He pulls away a moment later, inhaling deeply. He doesn’t move his hand from Steve’s neck. 

Steve’s eyes are closed, and his lips are puckered and those long lashes look even longer this close. He opens his eyes slowly, meeting Bucky’s gaze. A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips and then Steve’s moving forward again, kissing Bucky with an open mouth and throwing one arm around Bucky’s back. Their teeth click together for a minute and Bucky thinks Steve might have huffed out a small laugh, but he’s too distracted by Steve’s tongue in his mouth and Steve’s silky hair under his fingertips and the way he can wrap his entire arm about Steve if he wants and when he does so, Steve wriggles closer to him and Bucky can’t do this here, he really can  _ not.  _

They release a moment later, and Steve grins up at him and raises his wrist to his mouth delicately. Bucky wants to take him back to his apartment and  _ pound him  _ into the bed so hard that there’s an  _ indent  _ the next day.

Instead, he smiles softly and says, “Text me when you’re home safe. Okay?” Steve nods and Bucky smiles all the way home.

Later that night, Bucky is pleased to look down at his phone to see that Steve kept his promise. __

\-------

Their second date is in Framlingham again. Bucky introduces Steve to Natasha officially, and Steve eats in their apartment with them. Bucky makes dinner for everyone, and when Steve has gone, she lets Bucky know what she thinks. She doesn’t even have to threaten the guy. 

They go out about twice a week, sometimes walking about in Framlingham and other times exploring Ipswich. Bucky likes kissing Steve, but he also likes to see Steve talk about his interests. His flush is different than Steve's, and sometimes Buck has to stop him before he gets himself worked up. It’s an all-new kind of sexy and it gives him butterflies like he’s never felt before. Steve looks like a beauty queen when he gets to ranting, and he looks like a painting when he lays down on the grass in the park and listens to Bucky play the ukulele. By their sixth date, when Steve takes Bucky to a museum in Ipswich, they’re officially dating.

It’s about a month and a half in, on a Saturday, when Steve takes him to Dovercourt Bay, borrowing his friend Sam’s car to pick up Bucky and drive them to the beach. For a brief moment, Bucky considers being embarrassed about the fact that he’s been in England for longer and Steve’s the one who knows how to drive. It’s about an hour, but Steve is talking a mile a minute about the sweet little beach, and how Bucky will love it.

“Oh shit!” Steve says suddenly, and Bucky sits upright in his seat immediately, his arm going up as though to protect Steve from some unseen accident. Steve laughs and Bucky puts his arm down, but Steve continues. “Um, can you get your arm wet? Your metal one?”

Then it’s Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, Stevie, I can. It’d be a downright shame if I couldn’t even shower with my own prosthetic, wouldn’t it?” Steve flushes and Bucky can’t help but notice how damn pretty it looks. The truth is, Bucky will have to sit his arm out to dry tomorrow like he always does when it gets waterlogged. He could release the tension points and leave the prosthetic on the beach while he and Steve go into the water, but there’s a chance someone would steal. There’s a greater chance that some stranger would see his stump, and there’s a 100% chance that Steve would see it. Bucky’s not sure he’s ready for Steve to see all of him. 

“I don’t know! I mean, I assumed but…” Steve trails off, and he turns an even deeper shade of red. Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve’s eyes flutter for a minute and his lips pucker into a pout. Bucky sucks in a breath. _God._

“You’re so damn pretty, you know that, Stevie?” Steve rolls his eyes and then responds by turning up the radio. Bucky hears himself laugh over the music.

They arrive around noon, with Steve’s sunblock and picnic basket, plus a blanket, all in Bucky’s arms. Steve is digging through a bag for something.

“What are you looking for, babe?” Bucky asks, and the pet name is out of his mouth before he even realizes. Steve pulls something out of his bag and holds it up to his mouth, pressing down on the top and breathing in deeply. After doing it twice, and watching Bucky’s concerned face the entire time, Steve sighs and stuffs it back in the bag.

“It’s my inhaler. For my asthma, remember?” Bucky nods quickly, he remembers.

“But why did you need to take it right now?”

Steve shrugs and doesn’t look at him, grabbing the rest of their items. “I always take it if I’m going to be doing physical activity.” Bucky doesn’t ask, he just follows Steve to the sand.

Dovercourt is sort of hidden, and they’re one of three groups of people at the beach. Steve leads Bucky to a spot below some dunes, near the tall grasses that crabs like to hide in. He lays down the blanket and sits back on it, beckoning Bucky forward. Bucky immediately goes to him, and Steve’s kisses make his head spin. Steve’s skin is warm and it turns pink whenever Bucky presses firmly into him. His blonde hair is flopping in front of his eyes and he’s squinting up at Bucky. 

“You are so cute,” Steve mutters against his lips. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine. He loves it when Steve takes over like this. The blanket shifts and gets covered in sand when Steve pulls him closer and sucks on his lower lip. Steve leans them back and moves to suck on Bucky’s neck. Bucky has to suppress a grown when Steve’s hands get close to his waistband, creeping along his stomach, just touching lightly and so tantalizingly close to the place when Bucky needs him to grip and rub and suck. But Steve pulls away and kisses his cheek lightly. 

“Water?” He asks innocently, smiling wide. Bucky wants to wipe that damn smirk off his face.

The water is almost lukewarm. Bucky has Steve grinning and splashing, and they try to catch each other beneath the waves. Steve’s trunks are wet and fit snugly to his legs. When he leaves over to pick up a shell or a rock, the material stretches across his perky little butt. How Steve has a round bottom with such spindly legs, Bucky will never know. Wetness makes his body shine, and also creates extra folds around his crotch.

_ Fuck,  _ Bucky nearly groans to himself as Steve absentmindedly brushes sand off his hip. There’s no way Steve can be that well-hung.

An abnormally large wave hits the back of Steve’s legs and he stumbles forward, shaking Bucky out of his reverie. He grabs at the smaller man’s shoulders and steadies him. Part of Bucky is afraid that Steve might get swept away into the water, he’s so small, maybe they should take a break... and the other part of Bucky wants to haul him over his shoulder back into the sand and just take him until the day is done.

But he’s honestly having a ton of fun, and Steve looks so happy. This is the first time he’s been so pent-up with frustration in a relationship, but it’s still enough to just touch Steve and splash at him. Bucky’s hair sticks to his neck and he brushes it off, and Steve is smiling. It’s enough, just for this. It’s more than enough to just be with Steve.

It’s almost seven in the evening when his boyfriend drives them back to town.

“Hey, Stevie?”

Steve smiles in response. “Yeah, Buck?”

“You know, it’ll be about 45 minutes until we get to Ipswich. And another half an hour to get to Framlingham.” Bucky says slowly. Steve nods, his brow furrowing like it does when he’s confused.

“Yes. That’s correct.” He says, eyes on the road. Bucky looks out the window and watches the countryside fly by for a minute before he musters up the courage to continue.

“I was thinking—I mean if you’re up to it, that maybe I- Maybe I could stay-“ Steve grips the wheel a bit harder and Bucky says it in a rush.

“Maybe I could stay over tonight so you don’t have to drop me off at home first and then come back.”

Steve doesn’t look at him when he answers. “You could also just take the train back.”

“Oh.” Bucky hadn’t thought of that, and it shows. But then he sees Steve’s mouth twitching up in the corner.

“Of course you can stay over, Bucky,” Steve says softly, and he sneaks a glance over at the other man before reaching over to pat his hand. “I was wondering when you’d ask, after all.” Bucky stares at Steve, but Steve isn’t looking. Then he smiles, more to himself.

“I love you,” He says, but what comes out is, “Damn punk. You scared me.”

Steve kisses him, but it comes in the form of a shrug and a grin he throws Bucky’s way. “You need that every so often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe, come again.  
> If you'd like to hang out, (or have any experience in being a beta reader) come and check me out on Tumblr!  
> [Tumblr: thelegendofcreation](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thelegendofcreation)


End file.
